The Perfect Fit

Big Linda Skrue’s black Ferrari screeched to a stop at the curb.

Her coldly beautiful face was set in a scowl that would have discouraged anyone from challenging that portentous rather than pretentious name.

It was a name she’d borne for years, in one fashion or another, and whatever it’s origin it was a name that fit. To those fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to know her, she was notorious for her voracious sexual appetites.

A bull-dyke dynamo with an additional sadistic taste for men, Big Linda scowled because she was worried. Little Keri Colts was alone at the house tonight, working by herself on a naked man. And although she’d left him chained up and ball-gagged, drugged and helpless, and Little Keri wearing the cock, carrying the whip and otherwise in total command, it was still a matter for concern.

Best friend, roommate, lesbian lover extraordinaire, Little Keri Colts was many things, including madly extravagant and recklessly impulsive in her own sexual affairs. She remained obediently submissive in relation to Big Linda — who the hell didn’t? But when she got with a man these days she had a bad habit of going overboard the other way. Sometimes things got a little messy and extreme, and Big Linda was afraid she’d get herself into trouble some day.

Oh, well. It was her own fault, really. Big Linda sighed, keying off the car and listening to the powerful motor die. She almost felt like a master craftsman abandoning a particularly promising apprentice, or a mother hen, watching her downy little chick strut out arrogantly on its own for the very first time. It was a weird, antsy feeling, and when you started to get antsy there was only one thing to do about it — go shopping.

It was almost eleven o’clock at night, and her favorite leather goods store was closed. But Big Linda Skrue wasn’t thwarted that easily. She needed a new pair of boots, and she was going to get them. And maybe something for Little Keri too...something to surprise her with after her little escapade tonight… Something to remind her who thereal mistress was around here!

A quick glance through the directory and few phone calls had located a small private boot shop across the city. The voice at the other end of the line had assured Big Linda that they carried women’s boots and leatherwear of anextreme variety, as well as other shall we sayinteresting goods of rather esoteric use. Always in the mood for a drive — and perhaps for sporting her new purchases in an unfamiliar hangout on the way home — she’d made the cross-town trip.

Across the street from this little boutique, Big Linda Skrue climbed out of the car: six feet-one inches tall and a hundred and sixty-five pounds of stunningly statuesque womanhood. Gleaming as though burnished, her reddish-golden hair fell richly about her powerful shoulders. Her muscular arms bulged through the scanty sleeveless blouse she wore, but that intimidating detail was overshadowed by her gigantic breasts. Immensely full and deliciously ripe, as large and firm as honeydews, these bounced and jiggled beautifully without the confinement of a bra.

The fact that she could carry such weight without artificial support alone testified to the remarkable tone and uplift of that magnificent chest, and people inevitably regarded it with awe. ‘Big’ Linda Skrue drew stares wherever she went, stares that confirmed her supreme power and beauty for her. But tonight the street was deserted, and with her mind still locked on her unsupervised lover there was nothing to d